Merry SeXMas!
by Shootingstar7123
Summary: House has scored. Big time. H/C.


Merry (Se)X-mas!

…

A/N: Merry (se)xmas, Retta!

You asked me to include:

1. House/Cameron

2. SMEX

3. Fluff

and asked me NOT to include:

1. HUDDY

2. Character death

3. Violence

Your wish is my command! I hope you enjoy it!

…

Unnecessary disclaimer: None of the characters or storylines appearing in the TV show "House, M. D." belong to me.

Abstract: House has scored. Big time. H/Cam.

…

House's look was smug as he slammed open the door.

"What is it now?" Wilson asked in annoyance as he looked up from his paperwork.

House's self-satisfied smirk never wavered as he strode over to the chair across the desk from his friend. "I scored an invite to the hottest party of the year."

Wilson gave him a bemused look. "You don't go to parties."

"I do when it's—" he paused to pull the invitation out of his pocket. "Bruce Basrah's Merry Sexmas party," he read.

Wilson gaped. "Who and _what_?"

"You know," House said casually, "Jersey's version of Hugh Hefner, saved his life last year?"

Wilson leaned forward, his brow furrowed. "Sjogren's syndrome guy?"

"That's the one," House responded smugly.

"And he's throwing what, a sex party?" Wilson asked incredulously.

House shrugged. "Something like that."

"And you're going to this party."

House rolled his eyes. "Duh. You'd have to be some kind of idiot to turn down an invitation like that."

Wilson shook his head. "I hope you know what you're doing, House."

House just grinned to himself and walked out of the room.

…

House gave himself a cursory glance in the mirror. His bow tie was askew, but he didn't notice. He ran a few fingers quickly through his hair in lieu of a brush. He stocked his wallet with condoms. Yeah. He was ready.

A valet parked his car after he pulled up to the mansion. It was unbelievably ornate, and must have been close to twenty thousand square feet. Mr. Basrah sure knew how to outdo himself.

House presented his invitation at the door, and headed inside. He knew the drill—cocktails and finger foods for the first hour or two, then when everyone was nice and tipsy, people started to head towards the pool, the bedrooms… well, anywhere, really, if the stories were to be believed. House didn't want to be too drunk, but he still headed to the bar for a scotch.

As he waited, he glanced around at the attendees. Women outnumbered men at least three to one—the odds were definitely in his favor. He was sure he could score tonight. He would show some lucky woman how it was done.

And then he saw her. It took him a moment to remember where he knew her from—she looked so different! He couldn't believe it, but it had to be true—it was the woman he had just hired, mere weeks ago. The quiet, shy one, who trembled if he came too close, whose eyes looked like a deer in headlights when he called her name. An intelligent doctor who acted like a shy twelve-year-old. His employee. His employee dressed in a miniskirt and fuck-me pumps.

He felt his dick begin to harden slightly already, just at the sight of her. The contradictions only made hert hat much hotter, and all the more intriguing.

Before he could think on it more, the bartender passed him his glass, and he went ahead and had a sip. It was good scotch. Saving the lives of rich people was the best.

"Dr. House?" came the voice from beside him. He looked to see the man of the night, Bruce Basrah himself. "Great to see you!," he continued, giving House a hearty slap on the back. "I didn't think you'd come."

"And miss all this? Hell no!" House said, unable to suppress a mischievous smile. Bruce continued talking, pleasantries probably, but House had stopped listening. His eyes were scanning the crowd again, landing back on her.

"Ah, you've noticed our sweet Allison," Bruce said, his voice finally breaking through. "Tragic, that one."

At that, House's attention moved back to the man at his side. "What do you mean?"

"Lost her husband at such a young age, never had a steady guy since. She's been coming here for years. She always looks like she could use a good fucking," he said. Though his words were crude, his tone was gentle, and House could tell that he did feel for the girl.

House glanced back at her. She looked nervous as all hell. He watched as she downed a champagne.

Bruce continued. "She always drinks too much, then drags some poor guy off who has no idea what he's in for!" he chortled. "She's a firebrand in the sack," he confided.

At this, House frowned. Bruce had been with her before? She seemed so damn out of place here, even in those absurd heels. And the lipstick, a whore's red, still didn't hide the angelic innocence of her face.

"She's all business, though. Fucks someone, then goes on her way. Never joins in any of the revelry, and always rushes out. Poor girl," Bruce said, interrupting House's musings. "Well, I've got to be off. I've got a whole party to greet, you know," Bruce said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Enjoy yourself, Dr. House," he heard as the man walked away. House's eyes didn't stray from the girl. He just didn't get it. Who the hell was this kid he'd hired? He shook out a vicodin and downed it with his scotch.

"Hey," came a husky voice. House turned his head in surprise to find the source. A tall woman with dark blonde waves and cat-eye liner was next to him, giving him a very obvious 'fuck-me' stare. "So I hear you know Bruce personally." She practically purred at him.

House shrugged. "I saved his ass last year." He turned back to watch his girl out in the crowd.

"Oh, how exciting!" the woman said in her low voice. She stepped right in front of him then, blocking his view of the party. "Speaking of exciting," she began, "You want to get out of here?"

When he was unresponsive, she grabbed his crotch. "Come on, honey," she all but growled. "I can rock your world tonight."

"Sorry," he said, pushing away from her. "I don't have sex with hookers for free."

Her glare could have cut through steel, but House was moving on. Normally he wouldn't have said no. An aggressive come-on was hot. Hell, most come-ons were hot. But damn it if he couldn't stop thinking about the girl. Allison Cameron. He didn't want her fucking some strange guy tonight. Somehow it bothered him, got under his skin. He took a long swig of his scotch. He didn't care why. He wasn't here to analyze his feelings. He was here to have fun and roll with whatever his body was telling him. To distract himself from the leg pain for at least a few hours.

He moved quickly through the crowd with his trademark lopsided stride. The damn cat-woman had blocked her from his view just long enough for her to slip away.

When he found her, she was chatting up some guy on a balcony. He grabbed her by the shoulder, not quite gently.

"H-house!" she stuttered in surprise, looking utterly terrified.

The guy glanced at the two of them and took a step away. "I'm going to go get another beer," he said, excusing himself.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, finally having gotten her wits together.

"I was invited, obviously," he said sarcastically. "Come on, lets get out of here." He took a step but realized she wasn't following.

She looked at him, utterly puzzled. "What—"

He took one long stride and closed the space he had opened between them. Their faces were mere inches apart. Cameron's breath hitched. "You're not having sex with some strange guy tonight," he said firmly. And he stepped away again, sure this time she would be following.

In shock for a moment, she soon caught up with him. "Are you going to fuck me, then? Because I _am_ getting laid tonight," she said, more forcefully than she had ever spoken since he'd hired her, her mouth set in a firm line.

He slowed his strides and looked at her. "Why?" he asked simply.

She glared. "None of your Goddamn business," she said, more softly than the words would suggest.

"Well, if you want sex tonight, it's going to be from me," he said, sure that she would agree. "I see the way you look at me in differentials." He began walking again.

She looked at him incredulously, moving quickly to keep up. "As if you don't do the same!" she insisted.

He led her to an unused bedroom and shut the door behind. "You want to fuck me," she whispered.

He stared at her, a small smirk playing on his lips. "I don't think so. It's you who wants to fuck me."

She glanced downward. "Your raging hard-on is betraying you," she said, returning his smirk.

He took two long strides to reach her where she stood by the door. His hard shaft pressed against her stomach as he reached underneath her skirt. He nearly lost it when he realized she wasn't wearing any panties.

A breathy moan crept from Cameron's lips, and House's fingers came up dripping. "Your dripping pussy is betraying you," he said, his eyes boring into hers.

And suddenly their lips were on each others', their arms wildly exploring each others' bodies. House's tongue flicked her lips and Cameron moaned into his mouth. House took the opportunity to slip his tongue fully inside, teasing her own tongue with his.

Before they knew it, clothes were scattered about, and they found themselves on the bed. House moved his lips downward, starting by tracing up her thigh with his tongue.

"I asked for a fucking, not a licking," Cameron insisted, even though her heart was racing and her breaths coming in short bursts.

"Trust me," House said. "You'll be begging for more."

And she would have, could she catch her breath. She moaned deeply as he licked across her lips up to the most sensitive spot, flicking it gently with his tongue. His ministrations made her writhe upon the bed, and she moaned even louder when he began to probe inside her with his fingers. She was so damn wet, House thought he was going to lose it before they could get around to the good stuff.

Finally she came, shouting House's name as she hit that high. House had to tell himself to breathe slowly as he felt her contracting around his fingers. When she had ridden the wave of pleasure, he finally pulled his dripping fingers out, licking them clean of her juices.

"Goddamn," she whispered.

"Goddamn is right," House said, moving up next to her with a self-satisfied smile. "Now fuck me," he commanded.

She obeyed, climbing on top of him immediately. She slid onto his long shaft slowly, moaning as she went. He was bigger than what she was used to, but it was a good feeling.

House groaned too, feeling how tight and wet she was around him. He knew it would take more concentration than he had used in years to keep from arriving too early.

"Oh, fuck, Cameron," House spoke through gritted teeth, as she began pumping up and down.

She echoed his sentiment. "Fuuuuuck," she drew out. "Deeper, I need you deeper," she moaned.

House reached up and began to tease a breast, eliciting a gasp from her. She was going to come again, so soon already. The other guys she had been with here, usually drunk and blundering, had never made her feel so amazing. She used them to give herself her own pleasure. But this was different. This was mutual. They were in it together.

"So close…" she breathed. "So close…"

House moved his hand away from her breast and down to her clit, making her moan even louder. House himself was still breathing through gritted teeth, trying to hold out for as long as he could. He was determined that he wouldn't come before her. He took pride in giving women pleasure, and damn it, he was going to make sure she was fucked within an inch of her life.

He moved his hand from her clit to hold her at the waist, slamming her down deeper and harder than before. "Fuck yes, Cameron," she spoke through his teeth. Cameron just moaned, her breathing ragged.

"Come for me, Cameron," he said forcefully, slamming her down. "Open your eyes and come for me."

She opened her eyes at his command, and his blue ones were boring into her own. And with one last powerful stroke, she came with a cry. At that, House finally let go, moaning in relief and pleasure. She collapsed atop him, but he didn't mind the weight. House simply closed his eyes and let the waves of pleasure roll across him.

After a time, she got up, slipping away from him. He opened an eye to find her putting her clothes back on.

"Where the hell do you think you're going?" he asked her.

She looked nervous. "Going home," she answered simply.

"I'm not done fucking you yet," he insisted. "Come back to bed."

"No… I mean I usually—" she stopped and sighed. "I should leave. It's better this way."

"Fuck, Cameron. That was the best lay I've had in a while. I'm not letting you go anywhere," House insisted.

Cameron looked conflicted. "House, you're my boss and I really shouldn't get involved and—"

"You always run away. That's what he said anyways," House interrupted.

"Who—"

"Bruce told me about you."

She began to look angry. "So what, were you checking up on me? Spying? Trying to find out all your employees dirty little secrets?"

House reached out and grabbed her wrist. Her hand was balled into an angry fist. He didn't know what had gotten into him, but he spoke gently. "He saw that I couldn't take my eyes off you."

Some of her tension released immediately, but she still looked unsure. "Did he tell you about—"

"Your husband? Yes," he answered, before she could even ask the question. "You loved him and lost him, so you won't have more than no-strings-attached sex with anyone since, am I right?"

Her eyes dropped to the floor. She didn't answer.

House sighed. "Look. No matter what we do, tomorrow I'm still going to be your boss. We've already had sex. What could it hurt for you to stay a little longer? You might enjoy yourself."

House watched her closely as she still stared at the floor. Eventually her fist relaxed and he slipped his hand from her wrist down to grab that hand. Her eyes raised, filled with determination, and he pulled her back into bed.

"Now, what are we going to do with these clothes?" he asked gently.

She smiled tentatively at first, and then brazenly. "You'll think of something," she said.

…

When morning arrived, House found himself still in the bed at the mansion, but when he looked around, he didn't see Cameron anywhere. He sighed, guessing she must have gone as soon as he fell asleep. Her clothes were gone.

He lay back on the pillows, thinking. Normally he wouldn't be disappointed. Usually he all but kicked women out of his bed when the fucking was done. But she was different. Damn it if he wasn't a little disappointed.

Suddenly, a knock came on the door. House scrambled to cover himself with the bedding as the door opened.

To his surprise, it opened to a tentatively smiling Cameron, holding two steaming mugs, one red and one blue. "Coffee? Straight from Bruce Basrah's personal kitchen," she offered.

House couldn't help but smile back. "Only if I get the red mug," he insisted.

Cameron smile grew into a grin. "Naturally."

She handed him the steaming drink. Sure, he was still her boss and she was just another one of his fellows, but he was feeling uncharacteristically optimistic today. Maybe he'd change his mind tomorrow, but he was thinking he wanted sex again... many times again. Maybe something more.

He glanced over at his employee, sipping her coffee and basking in the morning sun streaming in the window. Well, she was still here. And that was something.

…


End file.
